Chapter Text
The kettle whistled, the sharp sound splitting through the silence of the tiny house, an escape of steam from a metal shell that had seen better days. Dust motes danced in the trailing beams of golden sunlight coming in through the windows he’d finally gotten around to wiping clean. The tiny dots of light scattered in the stream of steam, their slow motion disrupted into a chaotic frenzy.
“How’d it go?” Garam prodded. She perched on the far end of the room, her long legs crammed into the tiny place between the coffee table and couch. She could be brash, but even she knew it was not the time for her attitude. “Ha-yoon took off on me, so I knew something was up.”
Gunha grabbed the steaming kettle and the water sloshed against the metal walls. He grimaced against the counters, trying to hide his reaction; his tremors were getting worse. That was one habit he never could shake completely - transitioning from using his right arm to his left, much to his detriment. The major muscles in his back and shoulders were starting to ache, the tendons on the edge of seizing up, sliding in their sockets and grating like glass. It always did when he was stressed. But if anything, he was one hell of a stubborn bastard. “Sorry to interrupt your fun. Again.”
The kettle rattled against the counter, and he set the device down with a thud that resounded around the room. He stared at it as if it had personally offended his entire bloodline. He huffed and rubbed at his wrist; the scar tissue under his thumb was jagged and uneven, the skin pulled taunt across his bones. The unsteady and unpredictable tingling numbness in his hand was getting worse.. It might’ve been easier if I’d lost my arm entirely.
At least that way he’d be forced to use his other arm.
Which he should be doing anyway, but that was beside the point. It was a humiliation that he wouldn’t let himself indulge in, despite the number of years it had been.
The bottom edge of the kettle chattered against the counter and he poured the boiling water into one of the cleaned mugs; after a moment’s wait for the water to cool just a tad, he dropped a tea diffuser into the water.
A chair creaked, followed by a tap of nails on wood. “You didn’t answer my question, Gunha.” He could feel his lieutenant's eyes on him. Studying his reaction.
He glanced over; Ha-yoon and Garam were his second-in-commands for a reason - they were equally as stubborn. And the green-haired giant wasn’t about to let this go.
He sighed, “I’m not sure.” He admitted; Rumi had asked him a few questions now and again, her curiosity leading her deeper into the meeting with her mother, his wife. But it was surprising to him just how few she’d asked in the moment. “Rumi seemed…receptive.”
“To be fair, Gunha - that’s about the best you could’ve asked for. You’re a stranger to her.” Footsteps approached and a jingle of jewelry, then she snatched the kettle out of his hands.
Gunha glared at her, “I’m perfectly capable of pouring it myself, thank you. I’m not helpless.”
She ignored his bickering, “Are you shaking because you’re nervous?” The ceramic plinked as the hot water splashed into it. They both watched the water fill the glass, before Garam moved to set the kettle to the side and an errant splash of water hit the counter. He withdrew his hand and he watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Or at least he tried to. He had to turn his head more than he would’ve liked to see her clearly. The result was tucking his chin to his shoulder, spotting Garam over the bridge of his nose with his good eye.
The female reaper’s eyes flickered down to his hands and her gaze hardened. His own gaze narrowed, and his heart clenched in his chest. They’d never seen his scars; it had happened immediately after. After the reapers’ imprisonment. After he’d been outdone by Gwi-Ma’s machinations. He tugged the sleeve of his shirt down a little further, trying to cover the damaged skin. Wounds that had never healed properly and the permanent reminder of his failed coup.
He pinched the fabric snug around his wrist to prevent it from slipping up further
He’d only ever let Mi-yeong see his scars willingly. She’d never made him feel ashamed or self-conscious about it. He blinked hard, reminiscing.The warmth of her gaze and her warmth and comfort tucked against his chest on their bed. Keeping her safe. Her fingers ghosting across his skin, thumbs tracing his cheeks and under his eyes. She also knew what they were to him, what had happened to him.
What he was.
And she still accepted him - even after she left him with the notch in his ear. The fingers of his left hand trailed over the tiny crescent-shaped scar. At least this one he wore proudly; Mi-yeong’s ‘badge of honor’, as she’d called it when she’d pinched the tip of his ear and he’d blush, his purr rumbling through the bedroom. Mi-yeong giggled against his chest and he nuzzled into the crook of her arm -
“Gunha…what the fuck happened? We were imprisoned and now you have a daughter. You actually fell in love with someone.”
He was ripped out of his reminiscing and the delicate warmth of Mi-yeong’s memory faded. He growled before he could stop himself - the memories were all he had left. That bit of anger instantly died - because memory wasn’t all he had, either. He still had part of Mi-yeong.
“I did,” he stared. The other reared propped her hip on the counter, her mug balanced on her fingers. He knew that look. “And why exactly is that surprising to you?”
She cocked an eyebrow, and took an obnoxious slurp, while maintaining eye contact, “because you have never shown a single lick of romantic interest towards anyone for as long as I’ve known you.” Another loud sip and she sat the empty mug down, “and it’s a damn shame we couldn’t meet her.” Her tone softened, “…She truly must’ve been something.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. She became his entire world and his world got a little larger, a little more bright with the birth of their daughter. He’d spent so long losing himself, that their light let him crawl back out of the darkness he’d lost himself in. He wasn’t perfect- he never was, but he always strived to be better. For them. And for himself.
He settled on something simple, “She was.”
“And Rumi certainly takes after you. She might just take a while to warm up to you.”
He sighed - Garam was correct. Rumi was no longer the tiny infant he’d left behind, the squirming, babbling bundle he’d cradled to his chest with his long form tucked into the cushions of the couch. She wasn’t the toddler he’d taught to walk, who stumbled through his name with her little toothy grin. She wasn’t the tiny lion cub for him to protect and cherish. She was an adult - strong, with a new-found confidence he could only have hoped for, considering the circumstances.
“Gwi-Ma,” he finally muttered back to Garam. He rubbed at his eyes and ground the heel of his hands into the socket.
Garam’s jewelry clinked, “…I can go back to the garden, Gunha. I’m pretty sure there’s something there that can help you.”
”No,” he snapped back. They’d done enough on his account. “We can’t risk returning to the pit just yet any more than we have to. Not until we’re ready.”
She stared at him. This time, her judgement was thick. Judgement at his stubbornness. Then she shrugged with a groan. “If you say so. BUT, I would like to actually meet this daughter of yours in a circumstance that - you know, isn’t life and death,” she snagged the mug from his hands for the sole purpose of annoying him. “And I’m pretty sure your wolf friend would like to talk to Lisa again.”
He tapped his nails on the counter, “I suppose I could talk to them both. They have some things to hash out. And I’m going to meet with Rumi again this evening.” The plan was to introduce him to her pack. He licked at his fangs, the canines growing long in his mouth. He pinched the tip of his tongue between his canines. A nervous habit.
He would have to spill his entire history. To unveil each clandestine meeting in the darkness, each secret communication to undermine the Lord of the Pit. Each creature he’d killed in cold-blood to preserve his own hide. His fall and his failures.
The blood he still wore on his hands. What he truly was and not the monster that Gwi-Ma painted him as.
They - Rumi - deserved at least that much from him.
“Please go talk to Ha-yoon and tell her I’ll be by later,” he needed a moment alone. Balancing the wolf and the fox-turned-reaper would be a hell of a lot easier than what remained of his family life.
Garam was crowding him as her concept of boundaries was non-existent. His space was her space. “Fine. I’ll be your little errand boy,” Garam huffed a laugh. Then a phone cracked across his knuckles. “Ah, fuck, Gunha, I’m sorry!” she cackled as she phased away.
He exhaled slowly through his nose in annoyance. At least she misjudged her throw for his good hand. He might’ve had to punch her if she’d cracked the knuckles on his bad one. He was already close to that point as it was.
He picked up the mug and cradled it to his chest with his right hand, and collected the device from where it had clattered in the sink. He swiped open the screen to letters that took up at least half the screen. The minty scent of his tea rose up from the glass - he clumsily navigated to his messages, “Fuck me, maybe I do need glasses…” he mumbled. Phones were one thing he never truly got the hang of. He understood it in theory - but it was almost impossible to function in the modern world without one.
|Gunha: (Or whatever the fuck Ha-yoon had set his name as. Probably something dumb): You feel like having visitors today?
|Lisa: Yea
|Lisa: Went to the temple the other night and that was a mistake. Shouldn’t have moved around so much so quick.
|Lisa: I talked to your son-in-law btw.
| He’s a good one.
His brow creased; he took a sip of his own stolen tea, the mint coating his tongue in something comforting. His finger hovered above the screen, considering his answer.
“Dammit,” he muttered. Another sip - dating, proposals, marriage - that was all a fundamental part of humanity, for the most part. And well - Rumi was well past the age for him to be anything but a bystander.
A few seconds later:
| Lisa: Just please bring me some snacks. I’m about to die again over here.
He chuckled, just about snorting the hot tea through his nose. Both at the fox’s gluttony and her startlingly cavalier attitude about her death. And from the amount of active and downright inventive complaining she did about the hospital food, you’d figure she was being starved to death.
|Gunha: The usual?
|Lisa: please, for the love of god
|I’m also bored as shit
————-
Mystery still remained half-shifted, his long arms and clawed hands draped over Baby and Zoey. Silver fur still coated his arms and his chest, a dense coating of soft warmth that his lovers were currently vying for position in. Zoey currently had the winning position and her nose tucked against the crook of his neck. Baby was glued to his back and one of the maknae’s arms locked around his broad chest. Thin fingers rubbed at the base of his ears and his tail was pinned between his legs.
The room reeked of pleasure and sex and comfort.
You were…decisive. Mystery complimented and shifted to glanced over his shoulder.
He felt the heat rise on Baby’s face, Shush. He squirmed closer to the alphas back and buried his face against his shoulder blade.
We enjoyed ourselves. He chuckled, the sound deep and soothing. He was also very satisfied at the turn of events - Baby taking control, leading the way for once, guiding Zoey into something that he wanted.
And she was into it.
Pups, huh? He purred and pressed the flat of his tongue against the female maknae’s neck. That prospect also excited him more than it probably had any right to. Well…the handful of people he’d lain with had been men, so the opportunity wasn’t exactly…present. He’d also never considered that it was an option.
But only when that was something Zoey wanted. Maybe in the future. If that’s something she wanted at all. What mattered to him was having them, together, in the now.
Shut up, Myst. It was kinda a gamble on that one.
He chuckled again, and Zoey murmured in her sleep at his attention; she shuffled deeper against his chest. He froze and then dropped his hand to lightly scrape his claws across her pale skin - He and Baby left a myriad of marks across her body; bite marks, scrapes and bruises from where their hands got a little too eager. Her ass still gleaming red from the harsh spanking Baby’d dealt out.
Zoey didn’t seem to mind though. Dried cum flaked in the inside of her thighs - he tried to get her to shower, but by the time either of the demons had the water running and warmed, she was already sound asleep in bed.
He grinned into her hair - she still wore Baby’s shirt and a pair of his boxers that on her could pass as a pair of shorts. Did she want that?
Is that an option? He pressed, Would she want children one day?
I don’t know, Myst, you’d have to ask her! But considering she was already an idol and super famous, I imagine she’s on birth control.
His brows pinched, What is that? He cast a concerned glance over his shoulder.
What is what?
Birth control.
Baby leaned up and rested his chin on his shoulder. His teal eyes were cutting. He sighed, Jesus Christ, between you and Jinu, how much do I have to explain to you old bastards?
He rolled onto his other side to shoot Baby a light warning growl, but that little brat was staying the course. Zoey grumbled again and Baby’s eyes were narrowed in mock-challenge. His blue hair was tussled, not a single hair laying in a way that made sense.
Birth control - birth control prevents women from getting pregnant.
His ears pinned. The modern world and its modern miracles, Mystery supposed. So, we can have as much sex as we want and she will not get pregnant?
I mean, most likely. It CAN fail, but the chances are pretty low.
Mystery hummed. Well, well…
Yes, I’m on birth control since the two of you seem to be so interested in it, Zoey pinched the underside of his arm and Mystery flinched. Her brown eyes found his, still glassy with sleep. He coiled an arm under her chest and flipped Zoey’s body to rest in between himself and Baby, caging her in gently. She giggled and a light blush dusted her cheeks.
His arousal began to build again. The concept of filling her up, again and again and again, until their cum had nowhere else to go and spilled out of her. And then he’d knot her again until it took. Or he’d keep trying until it did, birth control be damned.
“No,” Zoey booped him on the nose, “it’s a fun thought, but I’m not getting pregnant anytime soon.” Then her eyes filled with mischief, “But you can try.”
“Oh, we plan to.” Baby purred against her shoulder and gave her neck a harsh kiss, leaning into the fantasy she’d so willingly painted for them.
Mystery leaned in, fully intending to continue their fun from the night before. But before they could get too invested in their adventure, a sharp rap on the window caught his attention. Mystery sighed - he knew that sound. The sound of a beak on glass.
He huffed. The stupid bird didn’t let up and if anything the corvid got more insistent. “Fine.” He rolled out of bed, naked in all his glory and his tail lazily trailing behind him to the window tucked in the back of Baby’s room. The glass slid up easily on its bearings and a blast of cool morning air barreled into the room.
The magpie chirped at him and ruffled its feathers. It wasn’t Sussie; the markings were different. In its beak was a tightly rolled piece of paper.
He offered his hand and the animal jumped into his waiting fingers. After it settled on his shoulder, he unrolled the scroll.
He read Gunha’s note three times before it clicked.
“Myst, what is it?” Baby asked at his side. Concern plastered over his face, and he tried to peek at the note by standing on his tiptoes.
He swallowed, wetting his dry tongue and parched throat before he spoke. He glanced between the two maknaes, “I - “ he started, “I need to talk to a friend.”
“Rumi’s dad?”
He tucked his tail between his legs. All he could do was nod.
“Well, let’s go then!”
Zoey watched the alpha demon fall back further and further in the line, his feet refusing to close the distance. As if he slowed down and walked slow enough, he wouldn’t have to face his fears. His shoulder slumped, his body language screaming anxiety that she’d never quite seen in him before. He could be quite difficult to read, by design - but right now, he was just a frightened boy. He refused to drag his gaze from the sidewalk.
“Why are you nervous?” Her sneakers squeaked in a puddle of rain water. Zoey glanced at her phone to check the time. Because apparently Mystery’s friend didn’t know how to use a phone. Bird-brained messaging be damned. She giggled at her stupid joke in her mind.
Mystery’s golden eyes gleamed at her from under the cover of his hood, “I have not spoken to them in ages.” If his tail was still present, it’d be wrapped around his legs and his pointed ears pinned to his head. He tucked his hands deep into his pockets in a ruffle of cloth. Zoey could see the balls of his fists straining the fabric.
He swallowed again - time was running out to back out, to take off running into the morning sunlight -
“Hey,” Zoey wiggled her fingers in front of his face and she smiled brightly.
He cocked his head to the side, confused.
“Hold my hand, duh.”
Mystery snorted and slowly extracted his hand from his pocket and interlaced his fingers with Zoey’s. Baby said nothing, but did brush his inner elbow on his other side, clearly asking for attention. Mystery snagged Baby’s hand and pink dusted the maknae’s ears.
Zoey danced forward, dragging the three of them down the street, her arms swinging in wide arcs. She hummed a mindless tune that Mystery didn’t recognize, a warm, excited melody that carried in the comfortable spring air.
And he was dragging his feet. Quite literally. His shoes scuffed against the concrete.
The closer they got to their destination, the tighter the wire in his chest got. The tightness sliced into muscle and bone, choking the air from his lungs and his heart thundered against it until all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears.
One more corner; he stopped dead and yanked his hands free. He took an unsteady step backwards and swayed in his feet as he refound his balance. His mentor, the one who’d been the first to ever show him the tiniest amount of kindness, who taught him how to survive the worst of Gwi-ma’s tantrums. He remembered following in the steps of the reaper, in a game of cat and mouse. Mystery followed in his footsteps; his weight creaked on hardened snow, trying his best to emulate the motions that allowed the Saja Lord to move as quietly as a still grave silence. How to use his magic to hide his presence, to conceal his form to only the sharpest of eyes, to those with the most discerning of senses.
Gunha taught him willingly and he was a most dutiful student.
Which is why he’d been so surprised, that centuries later, when a fairly new-born demon had picked up on his presence so easily in the cold, dark forest - when up until then, his skill at disappearing had served him so incredibly well.
And with that fact, Mystery was fascinated.
And well…the rest was history.
A man who was also the father of his greatest enemy and whose bloodline carried some of his power.
Would he be mad that they’d tried to best Rumi at their own game?
He tilted his head back, not caring who in the area might spot the strange action, to scent at the wind. Not that it mattered - Reapers didn’t have scents to pick up on. It was more of a habit, one he defaulted to.
”Come on, Myst,” Zoey prodded and gently pulled on the tips of his fingers.
He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the inevitable. “You two go,” he gestured back the way they’d come, “I…need to talk to them myself first.
He heard that familiar laugh bouncing off the walls. Garam. She was always loud - her clothing choices, her voice. And if Garam was here, then -
Zoey and Baby exchanged a look, “We’ll be close if you need us, ok?” Zoey gave him a peck on the cheek before she snagged Baby’s hand in hers. They both hesitated. And then they disappeared back across the intersection.
He barreled forward - he should be excited to see the few creatures that had come to challenge Gwi-Ma. He should be excited to see his friend. Twin pairs of light steps chased after him, but he paid them no mind.
His nervousness evaporated as soon as he rounded the corner. Gunha was always tall, taller than Mystery remembered him being. Or maybe because he was nothing more than a pup at the time, an eager wolf-cub that yanked at the edges of the reaper’s robes.
Gunha watched him, his expression stiff and almost unreadable. Mystery froze in place and after several seconds of awkward silence, the reaper nodded, slow, “Hello, Mystery. It has been a long time.” Then his expression shifted from the guarded one he was wearing, the warmth and kindness that Mystery knew him for returning.
And Mystery damn near knocked the breath from his lungs as he hauled the reaper in for a crushing hug with an oomph as the air was forced from his lungs, his awkwardness and his nerves crumbling like sand. Relief. Relief. He didn’t know how to explain this feeling, a weight lifting off his soul or a lack of one, that Gunha didn’t hate him.
“Lord Gunha,” he couldn’t control his claws and his talons bit into the sharp suit coat the other man wore. Memories flooded his mind, of fire and blood and ashes - Mystery blinked away his tears before they could fall.
The man chuckled and returned with a loose embrace, “It’s nice to see you.”
He sniffed, “It’s good to see you too, Lord Gunha.” His grip tightened and a random thought crossed his mind. The lord was different. He was the same height, that despite his perception, that fact hadn’t changed. He adjusted his awkward embrace, trying to parse out what was different.
Mystery finally withdrew, his brows pinched together in confusion. He finally looked at the reaper lord, at his appearance in full. He cocked his head and the reaper looked back at him in equal confusion.
“What?” Gunha tucked his hands into his pockets as a particularly cool gust of wind howled up the street. Cars rolled by on the pavement and a crowd of early afternoon passerby-s flowed around, a river of sound and smell that the reapers would wear like armor.
Mystery stepped, shifting slightly to balance on his left foot. Gunha was always a tall man. He just didn’t remember him being so…broad.
“You have put on weight, Lord Gunha.” He muttered before he could stop himself. His jaw snapped shut and his teeth made an audible click.
The other man’s eyes widened in surprise. Then he laughed, tossing his head back and his cackle caught a few stray looks. “By the gods, I swear I just can’t catch a break!” He slapped Mystery on the shoulder, an easy show that he wasn’t offended by the statement, “Because between my lieutenants and you, it’s always something.”
He laughed again and turned away from the stunned alpha demon. “Come on, I have some business to attend to. You can accompany me, if you’d like.”
The dark-haired one didn’t wait for an answer and simply strode off into the crowd. Mystery followed, unsure of what else to do. The humans split around the reaper, not in fear, it was never that. Gunha never gave the human souls he reaped a reason to fear - the same kindness that he offered to Mystery, he offered to the souls in his care before he delivered them to his master for judgement. But regardless, the humans gave way, an almost imperceptible change in flow, an instinct that all beings possessed on some level to avoid danger.
Mystery now understood that feeling more than he ever had, now, right in this moment. Because while Gunha was kind, he could also be dangerous. He’d seen firsthand the reaper’s devastating abilities, his unforgiving and calculated skills in combat.
And right now, Mystery wasn’t sure where he fell on Gunha’s scale.
A sliding door opened and the smell of cheap takeout food and sweet drinks wafted onto the street. Gunha glanced over his shoulder and indicated into the storefront and stepped inside the convenience store. Mystery trailed behind him. He felt like a lost puppy, his dropped leash hanging from his collar bumping along on the concrete.
“Lord Gunha,” he mumbled. They navigated the short shelves, stacked to the brim with crinkling bags of chips and humming refrigerators chilling bottles and cans of soda.
“You don’t have to keep calling me that.” Gunha paused in front of a stand, his gaze flickering across aluminum cans that consisted of pre-packaged seafood. He leaned down and swiped up a tin of canned anchovies. Then a can of sardines. “Hold these, will you?” Gunha was shoving several different types and flavorings of salted and canned seafood into his arms.
He stared down at the cans - a cartoon fish with a hook in its mouth stared back with some stupid slogan he couldn’t be bothered to read. “What is all this for?” he grumbled to himself.
‘You’ll see,” Gunha hummed under his breath and disappeared around the edge of the shelves. He reappeared moments later, several more bags of varying types of snack food tucked under his arm. Fried shrimp chips, seaweed, honey butter chips -
Who is all this for?
“We’re going to see a friend in the hospital,” Gunha explained and wrenched him from his thoughts. He followed along like a ghost as they checked out with their haul - half the store’s inventory of snack food.
Hospital? His gaze snapped up from the floor to lock onto Gunha’s face
“It was you in the hospital,” he barked. A little louder than he wanted to. The poor clerk at the checkout eyes widened and he flinched back at his exclamination.
The reaper’s eyes narrowed just a hair, “I was in the hospital, recently, yes.” His answer was vague by design. Too many humans around to risk speaking openly.
“So, why are you going back?”
The card reader chirped and paper bags rustled against a thigh as Gunha balanced the haul in one hand. “Like I said, we’re going to see a friend.”
“What ‘friend’?” he settled back on his heels.
Gunha cracked open a bottle of water, “A friend we are both familiar with.”
The door opened and they both emerged back into the bright light of morning. His list of friends was tiny and most of them were and had been in his immediate company for the last few months. Any others were dead and buried.
Who the hell is it?
———
She gagged, the blandness of the hospital food doing little to satiate her hunger. But, realistically it was fine. It was edible. She was just bored as shit. Her disappearance to the temple the other night had drawn a bit more attention than she anticipated and now, the demon nurses were extra vigilant.
Months in a coma and healing double-pierced lungs wasn’t exactly easy. The world’s shittiest industrial piercing. She sipped obnoxiously loud on her drink.
“Where the hell are they?” She set her drink down on the tray and sighed. Gunha was supposed to bring the hound here and her nerves were almost on fire with anxiety. She crossed her legs under the cover of the thin blanket - she was capable, she was strong. She took a deep breath and the scar tissue on her sides stretched uncomfortably.
She grunted and released her held breath. The air from her lungs fluttered up a couple of stray napkins. She patted at the beds of her nails, twisting her hands in her lap. She could handle a hound. She’d done it before, she’d run circles around the wolf’s brothers.
But those hounds were possessing human corpses at the time. This time, one of the strongest hounds in Gwi-Ma’s army was going to be here. Truly here. In her room and she wasn’t at full strength yet.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Gunha would be here. He…wouldn’t let anything happen. She rested her elbows on her knees and settled her cheeks into her hands. Her slim fingers tapped onto her temple. Her patterns thrummed under her fingers, warm and steady.
The door clicked and she heard two sets of footsteps enter the room behind her.
A sneaker squealed on the tiles.
“Lisa?”
She recognized that voice, one she hadn’t heard in ages, aside from the night they’d gone into the void to rescue their packmate. A paper bag dropped down on the bed beside her and Gunha crossed around the bed to sit down on the visitor’s chair on the opposite side of the room. He watched her face, gauging her emotions.
“Hey,” she greeted. Her voice sounded so fucking small. She wasn’t afraid of Mystery. She wouldn’t be.
“How -“ the alpha spoke from the doorway.
“He brought you some snacks,” the chair squeaked as Gunha adjusted in the chair. How was he so fucking calm? She was spiraling so goddamn bad. She spotted the mop of silver hair approaching in her periphery, and she growled in a panic.
The mattress bounced and the alpha quickly retreated to as far as he could get to the other side of the room.
She watched him from under her brows, and he made no other moves to get closer or to attempt to threaten her in any way. She swallowed, “Thanks.” Soft footsteps and then he appeared at the edge of the bed once again.
“We - I - you - like…anchovies?” His pale hand delved into the bag and reappeared with a tin of salted fish. His fingers trembled and pulled the tab. She reached out, slow, careful. Like he’d rip her hand off if she wasn’t on edge the entire time.
She cradled the tin and she swallowed again, nervous. Her throat was dry, parched. “You can sit down, you know…” Her nails trembled against the metal. She was going to be brave.
“That is ok,” Mystery murmured. His golden eyes peaked at her from under his lashes, the first time he’d looked at her directly. The mattress squeaked and the alpha perched on the far end of the bed. His claws tapped on the frame. Her own claws grew long in response and she dragged a talon through the paper wrap on the can.
“How -are you here?” He finally questioned.
Lisa pulled a little fish from the tin and tiny bones crunched under her teeth. Her nose wrinkled - fresh was better. They were very oily and salty. She trembled and fetched another salted fish from the tin and slowly extended her hand.
“It’s a long story,” she whispered. “It was the only choice.”
Mystery’s claws shrieked on the metal frame and she flinched. Metal chips plinked off the tile. Then he snatched the tiny offering from her hands, “The elder hunter killed you. I smelled your blood.”
“She did,” Lisa replied. She set the can aside and hid behind the bag of snacks acting as a barrier between her and the wolf. She winced, tugging up the fabric of her shirt. The scars on her sides, dead center of her ribs, were still fresh, ugly purple and puckered at the edges. Mystery’s face fell in surprise; whatever he was expecting, her admission of that fact clearly not on the roster.
“It was the only way to free the Saja. I had to manipulate the hunters to break the seals on their archives,” she pulled her shirt back down. She winced again as the fabric brushed the sensitive skin. “Helping you get your friend back was not my primary goal. It just happened to work out.”
That wasn’t the entire truth. Helping him escape the pit was a side bonus. Because, despite everything, she still did have a soft spot for him.
But she wasn’t going to let him know that.
She pulled another fish from the tin, “Sacrificing my foxhood was the only way to free them. Gunha can vouch for that.”
“…You’re not a fox anymore?”
She shook her head and laughed lightly, “I’m afraid not.” Her patterns spiders across her face, a light silver color.
Claws brushed against her cheek- not a caress, not exactly, she wouldn’t allow that. But a simple confirmation that she was real. “You are a reaper, now.” Mystery’s voice was awed.
“Yea,” she leaned away from the wolf. “When I died, I technically died human.”
She said nothing, and Mystery said nothing, either. Just digesting the information she’s just divulged to him.
”…do your daughters know?” Mystery whispered.
Her breath caught in her throat. He wouldn’t. Was that a threat? “You’ve met my daughters?” She hissed through her teeth.
“Freya is taking good care of them,” he muttered and he shifted uncomfortably in place. “They…are cute, I suppose.” Her wife was stronger than she was, an even more powerful kumiho than she was. Or used to be.
One that saved her ass on more than one occasion. She wouldn’t bring her kits around the wolf unless she knew she was confident in her abilities. She also had the demons in between a rock and a hard place - it was her magic that was currently keeping them safe. Mystery wouldn’t risk his pack to attack her daughters or her wife.
Lisa licked at her fingers. Fishy oil clung to her hand.
“I…am sorry.” Mystery mumbled. She picked another anchovy from the open tin. “I am sorry that I frightened you. I understand if you can never forgive me.”
She sighed, “…I forgave you a long time ago. But forgiving doesn’t mean that I forget.” She blinked and tears stung at the corners of her eyes. The image of jaws snapping at her tail as she dove for the cover of a cave carved into the walls of the palace. And glowing orbs for eyes that held nothing by contempt for her and hers. As a new subsect of hounds bred for the sole purpose of hunting her and her kind down to extinction; all in an effort to prevent the reapers from being able to break free from their prison. Fox blood was one of the major components of the spell, after all.
And crunching bone and ripping flesh as the alpha dueled against alpha, followed by screams of agony that echoed down the tiny hole she’d dove into. At the time, she swore she’d gone deaf in the crippling silence that followed.
“I barely escaped the fire that night, you know,” she wiped the tears from her face that had finally started to fall. Gunha shifted in the chair, the first time he’d moved since their conversation started.
“It was my fault that you had to.”
She glanced to the side and met Mystery’s eyes for the first time since he’d entered the room, “…And you’re the reason we were able to get out.”